|The Transformation Story Archive||With Fur and Claws...|
Ronald Rottweiler Happily pocketed the check for his last case in his trenchcoat and tipped his hat to his client. He had found the Horse's missing jewelry, and only had a minor wound to the shoulder from a gunshot to show for it. Par for the course, for a P. I. He gleefully planned a night out with two of his favorite girls, Amanda, a cute as a button Poodle, and Cicily, as feisty a Terrier as any could hope for.
He strode out of the offices of Harcourt Percheron, and presented the check at the Horse's bank downstairs, drawing a few C's in cash and having the rest credited to his account. As he stepped out a random wind outside whipped at his coat, revealing for a moment his otherwise unclothed masculine form.
An arched eyebrow was his response to the appreciative stares of a pair of teener female deer who passed by. Too bad they were underage, A quick piece of venison before the main event tonight would have been a nice counterpoint.
The rest of the afternoon was spent with the standard meeting and greeting that forms the basis of a P.I.'s life. You have to see and be seen, most clients come by word of mouth, and a slightly larger than the others advert in the yellow pages.
At the office, he passed by his kangaroo secretary, calling out a cheerful, "Afternoon Matilda, any calls?"
"No calls Ron, and my name is Emily, as you very well know!" she huffed, and continued, "Adrian wants to see you."
Ron slipped by his office long enough to drop his gun in the desk. then crossed the hall to Adrian's office. The St. Bernard handled the paper and legal side of the business. More an office manager than a detective, however, he was a formidable opponent on a barfight, which is how the two met.
"Ron, you finished the Percheron case?" Ron nodded, "Good we have some more work, a Skip Trace, that I can handle from here, a Divorce case, and a "Missing Heir" case. Which do you want to start on?"
"I hate divorce stuff, I'll start the missing heir thing. Authors be damned, I think that marriage should be outlawed!"
"Humph! next you will be demanding monogamy be outlawed, at least the way you act with the ladies looks like it. You still disapprove of my marriage to Emily."
"Adrian, I've seen the statistics, interspecies couples rarely last. But if anyone can make it work, it would have to be you and Emily, and if you tell her that I said her right name, I will deny it!"
Dinner with the girls went well, and both of them came home with him to his apartment. As usual, he proved he was too much man for just one bitch, as they both fell asleep before he was ready to stop playing.
That night his sleep was troubled. Strange voices. Stranger concepts.
YOUR WORK IS GOOD KID, AND YOU HAVE A DECENT FOLLOWING, BUT IF WE WANT TO SELL IN THE BIG LEAGUES, ESPECIALLY THE SATURDAY MORNING PRODUCERS, YOU'RE GOING TO HAVE TO NEUTER THE GUY. ZERO SEX, GET ME? AND NO BATHROOM STUFF!
OK, OK, I'LL HAVE SOME SQUEAKY CLEAN STORYBOARDS FOR YOU IN THE MORNING.
In the morning, Ron woke up, and scratched his crotch as he usually did. Something was different, wrong, but he could not put his finger on exactly what. He stumbled to the bathroom and started a shower. Jumping in while it was still running cold, as was his normal routine, the feeling of wrongness grew stronger. Then revelation struck. He whipped the shower curtain open, and looked at the fixtures. Sink, yes, Shower, yes, Toilet, NO! That most essential of fixtures was missing. There was an empty patch of floor where it used to be, no holes or marks where it should have been.
He nearly passed out when he realized that he did not need a toilet, as he had no genitals.
His crotch was an empty patch of fur, no trace of his pride and joy, and reaching back, no anus in back. Nothing. Overnight, sex and elimination had become things that were not part of his life. he remembered the voices of the night before. He had to find out who they were. and how they had this kind of power over him. And when he did find them, they would spend a long time in the hospital, after they had restored him to normal.
More angry than upset, he stalked to the kitchen, where he kept the liquor. After a search, he found the strongest thing left was the soda, which had replaced the beer he had put there the day before. He slammed the counter with a fist. Now he was more than angry, he was massively pissed.
Amanda looked over to him from the doorway to the bedroom. She was less endowed than last night, and no sign of nipples. Her crotch was as blank as his own. "What's wrong Ron?"
He stepped forward, exposing his body to her view. "Manda, look at me, look close, do you see anything different?"
She looked him over head to toe. "Uh, no."
Ron pointed to his crotch. "My Dick, is gone!, and so is your pussy!"
"Ron are you OK? I don't have a cat, and you don't have one named Dick either!"
"Humor me, go into the bathroom, and tell me what's missing."
Amanda shook her head in confusion, but went to the bathroom, a minute later she returned. "As far as I can see, it's a normal bathroom."
Ron had to get out, walking was his favorite way to do heavy thinking, He put his trenchcoat and hat on, and took off. He noted that some of the people had genitals, others did not, he had never seen this before. he passed by a group of ponies, none of them had any indication of sex other than ribbons and jewelry on the nominal females, far different from he remembered them from yesterday, they had clear gender then.
Aha! He thought, Doc Cowper! He had dressed the wound in his shoulder yesterday, and for obscure doctor reasons, had had him remove the trenchcoat. Doc Cowper was a smart Collie, he could get to the bottom of this.
Turning the corner, he began a trip to the doctor's office.
"So let me get this straight, last night you had genitals, and now you do not. your girlfriend had genitals, and now she does not. She thinks this normal, but you do not. Have I got it?"
"Yeah Doc, any ideas?"
"Just one. Did you have a strange dream last night?"
"Yeah I did, but dreams do not change reality!"
Doc Cowper shook his head gravely, "Some dreams do. Lets see if any of these words mean anything to you. Movie, Script, Hollywood, The Big Time, Screenwriter, Director, Producer....."
"Producer! yes!, and something else, close to what you said, The Big League." Ron was relieved, if the Doc had a clue, he could have a cure!
"It's Hollywood Fever Ron,"
"I don't have a fever, other than missing pieces of me, I feel fine."
"You do not have the fever, your Author does. and you must be a Main Character, otherwise you would have not noticed the change."
"Authors! you do not believe in that Sunday school cr.... cr..... er, junk, do you?"
"You were trying to say a word, can I guess it was "crap"?"
"You've been Bowdlerized too, there are now words you can't say, no matter how hard you try. I surmise you are being restyled as a children's character. Face it Ron, the stories are true, we are Fiction, and are the pawns of the Authors. Victims of Hollywood Fever go through massive changes, and quickly, this is only the first of them. You can expect more. If you are lucky, the Author will go through this to Final Rejection, if not and he achieves a Contract, whatever changes are made become permanent."
Ron slumped to the examination table, "Need a drink, bad, and that damned Author has removed all the alcohol from my place. There a bar near here?"
Doc Cowper wrote something on a pad of paper, "Here, since your Author has decreed, the only way to drink for you is with a prescription. otherwise the best you can hope for is a nearbeer."
Ron took the prescription and growled under his breath, "Doc has there ever been a case of Hollywood Fever that was fatal?"
"No, the final stage is Rejection or Contract."
"Figures, He can Fu.... Fu... MESS up my life, and there is nothing I can do about it."
Entering the office, Ron noticed other changes. It was a larger suite now, the furniture was new and more expensive. And there were more people working there. Amanda and Cicily both seemed to be employees now. An Iguana was at the microfilm reader, going over old newspapers. A Raccoon sat at a computer, typing away at something. Only Emily and Adrian seemed unchanged, but both were fully clothed.
Almost unchanged. As he passed by Emily, he noticed a St. Bernard puppy shyly peeking out of Emily's pouch.
He retreated to his office, this was too much at one time. He needed answers. On his desk was a computer, He had not had one before, but instinctively he began working with it, obviously his Author had added a skill with computers with the other changes. he set up a search profile for Authors, Hollywood Fever, and just in case it could help, case files of Author Intervention, and Miracles. He settled back as the computer chewed on his requests. After a while he dozed off.
KID, THIS IS SOMETHING I CAN SHOW AROUND, BUT ONE PROBLEM, I CHECKED AND FOUND THAT ROTTWEILERS AND POODLES HAVE TAILS, BUT THEY GET CUT OFF BY SOME PEOPLE.
YEP, IT'S CALLED "CROPPING"
WELL, WE CAN'T HAVE IT, ANIMAL RIGHTS WACKOS ARE ALL OVER HOLLYWOOD, AND THE LAST THING WE NEED IS ONE OF THEM NIXING THE DEAL. I WANNA SEE TAILS ON THOSE CHARACTERS AS FAST AS YOU CAN DO IT.
THIS IS SILLY, BUT IF YOU THINK SO, I CAN CORRECT THE STORYBOARDS IN AN HOUR OR SO.
The computer beeped for Ron's attention. He looked and found it had made over 200,000 matches on his requests. It would take days to dig through this mess, so he concentrated on Hollywood Fever and Author Intervention. As he dug through a case file on Billiam, a Teddy Bear who went through the illness, ending up as a lavender Tyrannosaurus Rex, who later collapsed with a dietary disorder, he had Meat Aversion, and could not metabolize the cookies and milk that his Author decreed as his only source of food, He noticed an unusual feeling at his backside. he reached back and repositioned his tail for more comfort.
Amanda stuck her head through the open door. "You look busy, want some coffee?"
Finally, something he could do! "I can have coffee? really! Yes, black, I don't want anything to interfere with the purity of the experience!"
Amanda shook her head and smiled, "I must have kept you up to late last night. Are you game for another round of heavy petting tonight?"
"Uh, yeah, sure." Was this another reprieve? was some kind of sex possible? He wondered what petting involved, and hoped it was enjoyable.
When Amanda turned around, she had a long tail, fur clipped short except at the tip which had a puffy ball of it. Ron reached back and realized his tail, about a foot and a half in length, had not been there when he sat down. Doc Cowper had warned him that changes would be rapid.
He spent the afternoon going over Author reports, it seemed that Authors themselves were finite beings, They died, and their characters retired, or got caught in a never-ending cycle of stalemates with old foes. Sometimes, a Character would have a change of Author, and a minor form of Hollywood Fever took place as the new Author had a slightly different vision. Characters with more than one Author frequently became schizophrenic and had extreme mood and character changes. This was not good.
That night, after a nice meal, Amanda showed him the joys of petting, which involved standing face to face, kissing and the stroking of each other's back and tail. It was very enjoyable, but not a substitute for the real thing.
That night, Ron tried to stay awake, but eventually slept.
KID I GOT A COUPLE OFFERS, BUT BOTH WANT A REVISION, HE CAN'T BE A P. I. THEY WANT HIM AND HIS SUPPORTING CHARACTERS TO BE A SEMI-GOVERNMENT TASK FORCE DOING GOOD FOR ALL OF CREATUREDOM. ONE OF THEM WANTS A PONY TO BE PART OF THE TEAM, THE OTHER WANTS A TOUCH OF THE X-FILES THROWN IN. AND A REOCCURRING VILLAIN, HERE, ANIGRAPH SENT OVER A DRAWING AND SYNOPSIS OF THE VILLAIN, DR. SPOT, THE MAD DALMATIAN.
Next morning, Ron got out of bed and tried to sneak up on the mirror. after a through self exam, he found no new changes. His closet however was another story. A row of identical blue and tan spandex bodysuits hung on the rack, and a pile of really dorky black berets. Turning to the wall, he pounded it in frustration until he opened a good sized hole through to the kitchen. His fedora and trench coat were history in the last of that mad god's revisions.
Calming down, he got his wallet and looked through it. Where his PI identification was now an ID card for Ronald Rottweiler, field agent of S. P. A. M. The Sapient Persons Action Menagerie. His gun, now a high tech monster, was holstered in a shoulder harness, that would by necessity be worn out where everyone could see the thing.
His car would have won first prize at a gadgetry convention. Not only could it fly and swim, it also got fantastic gas mileage. Lasers, Cannon, GPS, Onboard computer(with a sexy voice and personality module), First aid kit, Espresso machine, and a host of snack cakes and cookies, (product placement)
Since he was not sure where he worked anymore he let the car drive itself to his new job. On to the outskirts of The City he went, barely a willing passenger to a business park surrounded by lawns and trees. After showing his ID card three times and having a retinal scan. He finally made to his office. There was a sea of cubicles in a huge room, flanked by individual offices on the sides. He greeted dozens of people. some of them he knew, but most like Reginald Jet, A solid black pony with an attitude problem, and Skuller and Molly A ferret and squirrel respectively, who headed the paranormal division, were new to him. Emily now managed the huge office staff, while Adrian handled the Investigative team. Ron seemed to be in charge of the field teams.
Suddenly sirens blared and red lights flashed!
Amanda, in her skin tight spandex uniform ran up. "Ron we have an Action Report on Dr. Spot! He has used some kind of ray that turns normal people into vicious CheweyBears(tm)! These massive candy treats are ravaging The City!"
Ron, seized by an involuntary spasm, Struck A Significant, and declared: "We must stop this evil plan of Dr. Spot! Scramble all available Action Teams to contain the victims of this dastardly weapon!" then he almost fell down as control of his own body was restored.
A few hours later, the menace quelled by a well reasoned use of giant magnifying glasses to melt the malicious candies to the very streets they had roamed earlier, each CheweyBear(tm) was taken to a holding facility where top scientists began working on a cure.
Later as Ron Wandered through this maze, he encountered Dr. Cowper, who now handled the Med-Evac team.
"Doc! I am so glad to find you!"
"Ron, how are you coping with Hollywood Fever? Any new changes?"
"Yeah doc lots of them.....Hey! You remember!"
"Yes, as soon as you told me, my knowledge of the event became fixed. No matter what changes occur, I will remember that you are affected by it."
"Well doc let me clue you in to the most recent changes............."
Sometimes it don't pay to get up.
Again Ronald's sleep was troubled. Not even a whole pot of coffee could keep him from sleep. He did not expect that not sleeping would do any good, but at least he would not be hearing his doom being pronounced.
LOOKING GOOD KID, WE GOT TWO FISH ON THE HOOK, BUT BOTH OF THEM NOTICED A PROBLEM, AGE. RON AND MOST OF THE CHARACTERS ARE ADULTS, THIS IS A DEAL KILLER. YOU HAVE TO DROP THE AGE TO LATE TEENS FOR AS MANY OF THE CHARACTERS AS YOU CAN. AND GET THE MARTIAL ARTS ANGLE COVERED, KIDS LOVE IT.
That morning, Ron was a slimmer younger version of himself. His trademark bass growl replaced by a wimpy midrange whine. At S.P.A.M. headquarters, a large training field had been added, and the much younger Action Teams practiced punches, kicks and throws. Amanda, and Cicily, younger, and minus the last of the feminine curves they had possessed the day before, practiced with the others.
The only pleasure Ron got that day was in pounding the hell out of anyone who got close to him on the field, Amanda and Cicily both explained that they were too young to be petting. he was busy working over Reginald, when a stray kick took him out.
I CAN'T BELIEVE IT MYSELF KID, THEY WERE DEALING WITH OTHERS BEHIND OUR BACKS. THRILLPLEX TOOK AN OPTION ON "POWER SQUIRRELS" AND ANIGRAPH IS GOING WITH "TIFFANY AND THE SPACE VIXENS". THEY PULLED OUT THE USE OF DR. SPOT TOO, WE HAVE TO REMOVE ALL REFERENCES.
I WENT THROUGH ALL THIS FOR NOTHING?
NOT TO WORRY KID, RALPH HACKNEY SAW THE STUFF, AND WANTS TO TALK FEATURE ANIMATED.
DOESN'T HE INSIST ON A HUGE AMOUNT OF "REALISM"?
YEAH KID, HE THINKS HE IS THE QUENTIN TARANTINO OF ANIMATED, HE IS GOING TO LOOK FOR A SOFT "R" RATING ON THE THING.
I WOULD KILL FOR A CHANCE TO WORK WITH HIM!
OK, YOU'LL GET THE CHANCE, ONLY HE WANTS A FEMALE LEAD, AND THERE ARE SOME ANIMALS HE DOES NOT LIKE, COLLIES FOR INSTANCE. I HAVE A LIST.
GIMME THE LIST, AND I'LL GO OUT AND GET SOME BOOKS ON ANIMAL ANATOMY.
Ron woke up in Dr. Cowper's clinic. Now it was realistic, all the equipment was normal, none of the super high tech was left. Dr. Cowper walked in, but he was no longer a collie, SHE was an Irish setter.
"How you feeling Ronnie?" she said, looking over a chart.
"Doc, what hit me?"
"You got hit in the head with a chair in a barroom brawl. Adrian says that you were working an undercover at the Starlight Club. Normally I would not do this kind of work, you really needed to go to the ER, but you were raving about Authors and demanded to be brought here."
"Doc, you worked ER for years!"
"Me, nope. Is this something from your problem with Hollywood Fever?"
"Well, yeah, I guess so. Am I a PI again?"
"As far as I know. Tell me about the changes."
"OK doc. Yesterday we were part of a government agency..."
. . .
"So that's the significant parts, but I am curious, if you're not my "patch 'em up doc", what do I see you for?"
"Oh, I'm your Gynecologist."
"UH, I'm guy doc, or at least I used to be."
"Not anymore. You are a perfectly normal Rottweiler bitch."
"Funny how that just doesn't seem to matter anymore, do I have genitals?"
"My dear, if you didn't what good would I be to you?"
"Just get my gear, let me go home and drink myself into a stupor."
Home was a three bedroom house he rented with Amanda and Cicily. By the time he got there he had learned not to cringe every time a guy scoped out his "I'm a bitch" T-shirt with eight prominent nipples poking out from the otherwise flat chest, the short but uncropped tail tucked into the denim shorts.
The girls were all over him when he got there, and the good news was that they were lovers again, but he had no clue what girls did together. The toilet was back where it belonged, and he cheerfully made use of it, even if it was not in the fashion he was used to, but adaptation was a talent he had acquired by then.
That night he did something he had not done since he was a pup. he prayed to the Authors. He prayed to his Author.
KID, WE ARE INCHES AWAY FROM A DEAL. SO FAR HE HAS ONLY ONE GRIPE. TITS. HIS MARKET IS THE 'TEENS TO TWENTIES. EVEN IN ANIMAL CHARACTERS, THEY EXPECT TITTY!
SO MUCH FOR HIS INSISTENCE ON REALISM, I MADE THEM ALL AS REAL AS I COULD AND KEEP THEM BIPEDAL. HE WANTS TITS. I'LL GIVE HIM TITS.
Ronnie broke her hand the next morning pounding the wall with her fist, the eight round globes on her torso wiggled and jiggled with all wobbliness expected of a titty flick.
Doc Cowper had her sedated and a cast put on the hand, and checked her into a hospital for "nervous exhaustion"
ALL YOU GOTTA DO NOW KID IS SIGN THE PAPERS, WE GOT OURSELVES A DEAL!
Even with enough tranquilizers to stun a rhino, Ronnie's anguished scream of terror could be heard all though the hospital.
Hollywood Fever copyright 1999 by nanomage.
|<< Historical Revisionism||Horse Whispers >>|